


cover me, smother me

by seabear



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, M/M, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 12:53:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4479911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seabear/pseuds/seabear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Face fucking? </p>
<p>Face fucking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cover me, smother me

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally posted on my tumblr (chillnaxin.tumblr.com) but i decided i needed to spread my sin as far as i could, so i'm posting it here too B)

“I wanna try something.” 

The apprehension is clear on Hajime’s face, the way it always is when Tooru says those words. Those words, after all, have led to a multitude of increasingly ridiculous scenarios over the years that have caused a countless number of injuries. But they were also the words that got them into volleyball, and they were the words that got them their first kiss, and they were the words that, while they resulted in pain a good deal of the time, also brought a lot of laughs. A lot of happiness. A lot of memories.

Which is why, even though he’s hesitating, Hajime will eventually give in.

“…What?”

“You’ll like it. I promise.”

He stares for a beat, then vaults up onto his feet. “Nope. No. I don’t like it already.”

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru scrambles after him into their kitchen, where Hajime is tearing open cabinets, looking for his energy drinks (which Tooru may or may not have hidden. Those things are battery acid--he’s just trying to help). “Just hear me out.”

“You’ve got that look in your eye. The last time you had that look in your eye we wound up getting arrested for breaking and entering.” He finds the drinks stuffed behind the rice porridge, and tears one out of the plastic rings.

“But then Ushijima showed up, told the cops he knew us, and everything worked out just fine!”

“I still have the scar from the _twenty-six stitches_ that went into my shoulder, Oikawa.”

“This won’t result in any form of bodily harm, I swear!” Tooru holds up his hands, silently adding, _hopefully._

“Just say what it is, Assikawa, so I can reject you properly,” he grunts, popping the tab on his drink.

Tooru leans against the counter, cocking his hip and tilting his head with the confidence of someone who’s about to drop a figurative bomb. “I want you to fuck my mouth.”

The can falls out of Hajime’s hand and splatters all over the floor.

-

Oikawa Tooru would just like to say--he is very, very proud of his blowjob technique.

Considering he wasn’t exactly the best at giving head when all this started (“all this” being the Very Beautiful and Epic Romance of Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime), his improvement is actually pretty remarkable. _“Trust me,”_ Hajime used to say, _“There was no way you could get worse.”_

Which--rude. So rude. Your loving boyfriend puts your penis in his mouth and you have the gall to be persnickety about it? That’s just downright uncouth, Iwa-chan.

_“You threw up on me the first time!”_

Which is how Tooru learned to wait half an hour after eating before attempting fellatio.

Two years on, and he’s come pretty far (pun not intended). They both have, and it’s probably one of Tooru’s favorite ways to be intimate now. He loves pulling Hajime into secluded corners and bringing him off, Hajime’s back against the wall and a hand over his mouth to stifle the sounds, pants just undone and knees buckling. He loves sliding down under the covers in the early morning and waking Hajime up with soft sucks and licks before they both head off to class or work. He loves making Hajime’s usual serious expression melt away as he bites his lips swollen and cards hands through Tooru’s hair, gasping about how good it feels in that rough, deep voice. He loves choking on it, he loves that ache in his jaw, he loves Hajime pulling him back by his hair at the last minute and coming all over his face.

In short, Oikawa Tooru is a huge cockslut.

Tooru’s on their bedroom floor now, the back of his head resting against the side of the mattress, throbbing between his legs as he watches Hajime walk across the room, their eyes locked. He wants this. As much as he loves sucking and swirling and using all his little tricks to make Hajime come apart, he wants this. He wants his head held in place, he wants to be _used._

Hajime wants it, too. He wants it so bad that Tooru can see he’s already hard in his pants.

“We can stop whenever,” Hajime says, undoing his button as he stands over Tooru. “Just…remember that. You don’t have to push yourself.”

“I know,” Tooru spreads his legs, so Hajime can see the tent in his shorts. So Hajime can see how ready he is. “C’mere.”

Tooru was right–Hajime’s already hard, tip leaking as he pulls himself out of his pants, walking closer until he’s right there, just above eye level. That boy heavy smell, hot and thick floods Tooru’s lungs, and his heart pounds a little harder. Hajime’s scent, his taste–it makes Tooru feel drugged. Makes his fingers twitch in anticipation, his vision blur, his mouth water.

“So I can just…” Hajime strokes himself, jeans and underwear shimmied down just enough. Holding his length in his hand, Hajime presses the head of his cock against Tooru’s lips, smearing precome as he drags it all the way up his face. He lets it rest there, staring down with that glazed expression, still serious in its intensity, but definitely in the beginning stages of falling apart.

“You look so hot,” he swallows. “Damn.”

Tooru doesn’t say anything, just open his mouth, tongue sticking out slightly. An open invitation.

A hand pushes the hair back from his face, then again, and on the third time grips and pulls, forcing Tooru’s head back. He makes a tiny _ah_ sound, and Hajime tightens his hold a little bit, the way he knows Tooru likes it.

“You’re just gonna let me,” he brings the tip back down again, hot and wet against Tooru’s already burning skin, “use you?”

He feels his entire body surge at Hajime’s words, his own bubbling up without a second thought. “Please. Please, Iwa-chan, _please.”_

Another yank at his hair, and Hajime slides his cock past Tooru’s open lips. He watches Hajime’s eyes flutter, nostrils flaring, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Suck a little,” Hajime says, spitting into his hand and wrapping around the base of his dick. “Get used to it.”

Tooru’s eyes slip shut, falling into the familiar routine, kissing and licking before taking Hajime inch by inch. He reaches around and grabs Hajime’s ass through his jeans, pushing his hips forwards to meet the bob of his head as he works up a rhythm, cheeks hallowed and eyes shut. He’s impatient, though. He wants his throat fucked raw, he wants Hajime to do it do him, and he wants it _now._ Tooru takes all of Hajime, head hitting the back of his mouth, and when it does he swallows, humming and forcing himself to take it, not caring when his throat tightens and his eyes water, strangled sounds caught and muffled–the sounds he knows Hajime loves even if he’s never said as much.

Hajime forces him off with a grunt, punctuated by a loud pop of Tooru’s suctioned mouth pulling off, a long strand of spit from his dick to Tooru’s lips.

“Shit, you want it, don’t you?” Hajime pants, shoving his thumb into Tooru’s mouth. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want me to give it to you.”

Tooru’s cock twitches in his shorts, and he looks up at his boyfriend with teary eyes, face burning and mouth swollen. He sucks Hajime’s finger, tongue swirling just as it’s yanked out.

“Please,” he moans, licking at his lips as he reaches down to palm himself through his shorts. “Please fuck my slutty lil mouth, Iwa-chan.”

That’s all it takes, really, for Hajime to press the head to Tooru’s expectant lips, sliding in nice and slow, all the way. Tooru sucks, moaning as Hajime pulls out, then back in again. He plants his hands on either side of Tooru’s head and rolls his hips forward, fast and smooth, still a little too careful. Tooru wishes, desperately in that moment, that they were filming this because he wants to see. He wants to see Hajime fuck into his mouth, and thinks, through a strangled cough as his throat constricts around his boyfriend’s hot, hard dick–next time.

“Look at you just taking it,” Hajime’s hips stutter as he looks down. Tooru’s eyes refuse to leave that face. They refuse to miss the moment Hajime loses it. “You love it, don’t you?”

His thrusts start getting rougher, just this side of ramming down Tooru’s throat. Tears stream down his face, and he lets out a sound, punctured by the slide of Hajime’s cock, in and out, in and out, fucking his mouth. Yes, yes he loves it. He loves being like this, without being afraid. He never has to worry about being too much with Hajime, because Hajime can take all of him.

“You’re such a good cocksucker,” he huffs, hands moving to grip Tooru’s head still as he slides all the way to the back of his throat again and feels it swallow around him. He holds Tooru there, and Tooru just has to sit take it, crying, drooling, gagging, jerking himself off inside his shorts. Hajime draws his hips back, sliding out completely, spit dripping down Tooru’s chin. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love it,” Tooru gasps, pumping himself as he says whatever comes to mind, knowing it doesn’t matter. “I love being like this for you, Iwa-chan.”

Hajime strokes his cock, staring down at Tooru with an expression that’s almost gentle. “Just for me, right?”

“Just for you,” he lurches forward, gripping at the backs of Hajime’s thighs and pressing his face up against his shaft, nuzzling. “Please, don’t sto--ah!”

Hajime rips his head back by the hair, hitting the side of the mattress before he slides back into Tooru’s open mouth in one swift movement. He picks up a rough, punishing pace, squelching each time he hits the back if Tooru’s throat, and when he draws back again. _I want it,_ he thinks, _I want it, do it, come in my mouth Hajime fucking shoot down my throat I want it I want it please–-_

“Oikawa, shit, I’m so close. I’m gonna-–” Hajime’s eyes open, his expression breaking as his jaw drops. “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming.”

He pulls out at the last second, coming all over Tooru’s open mouth, down his face with a long, loud moan that seems to shake their bedroom. Tooru’s hand moves between his own legs, staring up at Hajime’s blissed out, beet red face. His breath catches, raw throat letting out a deep groan as he spills spills into his hand, voice ragged, “Iwa-chan, _nnnmmff.”_

Hajime’s knees buckle, falling to stradle Oikawa against the side of the bed, the heave of their chests falling in time together and they struggle to regain themselves. Tooru’s shaky arms come up around his boyfriend’s back, looping around and pulling him in close. He buries his face in Hajime’s shoulder, wiping himself off.

Hajime doesn’t notice, stammering, “That–that was–”

“Yeah,” Tooru breathes. “Yeah.”

“You’re amazing,” and Hajime tilts Tooru’s chin up kisses him, slow and deep and sloppy. He breaks away, trailing kisses across his jaw, up to his ear. “Incredible.”

Tooru snorts, shivering as Hajime’s teeth nibble on his earlobe. “Told you you’d like it.”

Hajime shifts, serving a flat glare his way. “You also said I’d like hot yoga. You’re one for two–don’t get cocky.”

He traces his hands up under Hajime’s shirt, over the smooth dip of his lower back. He wants these extra layers separating them gone. He wants skin on skin until they melt together in the bed they’ve shared for close to a year now. “We should probably clean up.”

Hajime stares intently at Tooru’s face for a moment with question marks his his pupils, like something’s not quite clicking. He squints, then those dark eyes turn wild, looking down at his shirt where his jizz is quickly drying, then back to Tooru, expression livid.

“Did you wipe jizz all over my shirt?!” Hajime yanks him in by the collar. “Are you serious?”

“I mean, to be honest that shirt’s super ugly, and–-Iwa-chan! S-stop!”

“Ugly, huh?” his fingers wiggle against Tooru’s side, and they fall sideways onto the floor. “I’ll _show_ you ugly.”

“Do-ON’T tickle me, or I’m gonna _pee on you!”_ Tooru squirms, exhausted body jolting and jerking, trying to get way from the hands slithering up to the side of his neck, his ribs, his armpits. He laughs in hoarse bursts, the tears coming back to his eyes.

“You already smeared jizz all over my shirt–pee’s not gonna make it any worse.”

“Iwa-cha–-AHahaha stop! _Please!”_

Elbows hit the floor on either side of Tooru’s head, caging him in. Hajime’s half lidded gaze strikes through his chest. “Love it when you beg.”

He wraps his legs around Hajime’s middle. “I love you.”

He watches Hajime’s face turn bright red again, until he slaps a hand over it to try and hide, muttering. “You always say it when I’m least expecting it…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be caught off guard so easily.”

“Maybe you should shut your face, Oikawa.”

“You’re so mean. How did I, a good and caring human being, wind up with such a mean boyfriend?”

Hajime sinks down onto Tooru with his full body weight, blanketing him with the sweetest warmth. Half muffled, just above a whisper, “I love you, too.”

Tooru holds on tighter, smiling up at their ceiling for a beat.

And then realization dawns on him. _“Are you trying to rub your jizz back onto me?!”_

Hajime bolts up and off of him, sprinting for the bathroom, laugh loud and booming and echoed by Tooru’s.

/end.

**Author's Note:**

> sorry @God


End file.
